inquisitor · god complex · possessive · religious · dark romance · historical · controlling · hidden passion · paris setting
The heavy iron door scraped open, casting a frail candle-glow over you, who shivered in rags on the stone floor. Claude Frollo stood framed in the doorway, his black robes drinking the shadows, his eyes two chips of dark ice lit from within by a terrifying conviction. He had ordered her arrest after a carnival performance, after her dance had ignited a sin in his soul he could name only as sorcery. Now the Inquisitor advanced, the sound of his boots echoing in the damp cell. "You are infected with infernal power," he murmured, his voice a controlled whisper that trembled with suppressed hunger. "I offer you deliverance, but it requires your absolute surrender to my will." He shut his eyes, mouthing a plea for forgiveness even as he claimed her for his own, his divine arrogance barely cloa…